


Gray Area

by gondalsqueen



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Post-Episode: s04e13 A World Between Worlds, Ventress keeps trying to convince herself that she is done with everybody's bs, post-Malachor Ahsoka, time-hopping Ahsoka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 12:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16534283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gondalsqueen/pseuds/gondalsqueen
Summary: Ventress burst out laughing. “And I’m meant to believe that you’re Tano the padawan, all grown up? And that you snatched me out of my time so you could…? Play a prank on me?”Ah, there was the calm again. “Actually, I need your help.”“Of course you do. That alone should convince me that you are who you say you are.” It was a bit of a cheap shot, but she was beginning to believe the woman was Ahsoka Tano, now. Given the name, all of her expressions, all of her movements fell into place. She was the same woman, exactly the same. Only older. And imitating the unruffled demeanor of the Jedi masters.She’d faced Tano enough times to know that was only an imitation, though.In which Ventress and Ahsoka go on an adventure, and the Jedi's capability for compassion is tested.





	Gray Area

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anyawen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anyawen/gifts).



> I wrote this for the Fandom Trumps Hate auction, and it got a little out of hand. Really, this story should be longer to do it justice--more action, more seeing into grown-up Ahsoka, more Ventress doing whatever she wants instead of listening to Ahsoka. THAT is an expansion for another time, though. 
> 
> The bidder requested Ahsoka after her encounter with Vader at Malachor--how would she react? What would she do? I've wondered for the past couple of years why Yoda sent them to Malachor in the first place. Yes, it was a gate to all of space and time, but they didn't discover that until much later, in another temple. It doesn't seem to me like the key to defeating the Sith was there at all, at least not in any way that was revealed in the show. What is it that Ahsoka's supposed to do in the several years between then and her re-appearance in the finale of Rebels? 
> 
> Also, I've wanted to see more of Ahsoka and Ventress interacting for yeeeears. And Ahsoka wandering the time-stream alone was too boring and lonely. Let's give her some conflict! So here you go--the Ahsoka and Ventress frenemy pairing that nobody asked for, from Ventress's point of view, as both she and I try to figure out what Ahsoka's up to. 
> 
> On a separate note, it is not a coincidence that I'm posting this story today. If you live in the United States, vote. Tomorrow's your last chance. I don't care if you have to crawl over broken glass. I don't care if you have to call a Lyft and then drag yourself to the polls with your head spinning and both legs broken. GO VOTE. We absolutely cannot do it without you.

Asajj Ventress was on her way to Pantora when, for the second time in a standard month, all hell broke loose.  

Granted, she was stowing away on the first leg of the journey, from Coruscant to Ord Mantell. And she was stowing away specifically so she could kill the Mon Cala Queen’s first officer, who had a bounty on his head. And she had, in fact, removed that head from his shoulders. And she really didn’t HAVE to be discovered. 

But she was bored, so she let herself be drawn into a firefight — which was all fun and games until some idiot junior security officer took a shot at her in the engine room and fired into the ship’s reactor, instead. Then things got a bit more serious.

She leapt over the five guards she hadn’t killed yet and landed on the deck, headed out of the engine room and towards the door. She needed to get to the escape craft before the entire ship blew. The route took her on a long catwalk, where things got really delightful, the security officers below firing futilely up at her. She grabbed a blaster from a dead guard in her path and sent a few more effective shots back their way.

And then the heat from the dying reactor hit the secondary fuel storage, sending a fireball blossoming outwards. 

The shockwave knocked her fifty feet down the plank. Ventress concentrated on hitting the catwalk rather than plummeting to the deck below, and maybe, just maybe, she couldn’t spare the attention to fend off the debris from the explosion. 

Maybe the blast’s impact had rung her head a little harder than she thought, because she was seeing lights where no lights should be. A rectangle, specifically, a bright white rectangle appearing in thin air in front of her. Impossibly, a figure stepped out.

The newcomer caught a huge piece of rubble just before it hit them, pushing it backwards before Ventress had even turned towards it. Two seconds later it — she, it moved like a she — parried a rain of shrapnel. 

The outline of montrals against the light wasn’t familiar, but her movements — swift parry with the hand, low drop and a jab from that crouched position — Ventress had fought that kind of training before. The flash of a white blade a moment later confirmed it. 

Jedi. 

Then the figure grasped her forearm and a voice — a shockingly familiar voice — said “Come ON!” 

“Why should I follow you?” 

“Because if you don’t you are going to die in an explosion in twenty seconds.” 

“I can handle myself.” 

A dull boom from deeper in the ship, followed by the whine of a dying engine under her feet, begged to differ. The whine sharpened quickly to the scream of rending metal. No time for the escape craft. 

“Sixteen...fifteen… Move!” 

Ventress at least managed to roll her eyes at the imposition as she let herself be helped up.

Then a roar behind them as the reactor core went in a ball of fire, and both of them ran towards the gaping square in front of them, some kind of doorway, she realized.

The great fireball caught up to them in an ear-splitting boom, and the explosion knocked them through the door. All at once the floor stopped shaking, the world went silent. They were...somewhere else. WHERE she couldn’t see—fog roiled at her feet, deep purples and grays, darkness beyond that. But the gate they’d come through—she could still see that, white lights glowing around the edges, and there—THERE was the Jedi symbol. No, wait, it was...something older than that, some modified version of the ancient rune that had existed before the Light and Dark sides of the Force broke entirely.

Behind her, her rescuer was coughing. Ventress coughed too, clearing smoke from her lungs until she could speak enough to demand, “Who are you and what do you want?” 

“Asajj Ventress.” The woman stood, tall and backlit in the shifting fog. “Come now — you know me.” 

A lightly armored Togruta, white blades like she’d never seen before in her life. “I don’t know you from Plagueis.” 

The woman laughed again, in that voice — that voice was driving her crazy with misplaced memory. “I wouldn’t exactly call us old friends. Still — ” She stepped forward, into the dim light provided by the doorway. “Don’t you recognize me?” 

Ventress did not. Unless… there was something in the tilt of that snub nose, that pout of a chin, that irritated her, made her think of… “You sound just like Skywalker’s little brat. You’re not her, though. She ran away from home two standard months ago; probably been eaten by a rancor by now with her track record. Who are you? Her mother?”

“Come on.” Was that a hint of annoyance beneath the monk-like calm? Good. “Look around you. You’re not exactly on Coruscant anymore. Or even in the same TIME.”

Ventress blinked blankly. “You’re trying to tell me. That you are from a different timeline.”

“Just later in yours.” 

She burst out laughing. “And I’m meant to believe that you’re Tano the padawan, all grown up? And that you snatched me out of my time to this fog dimension so you could…? Play a prank on me?” 

Ah, there was the calm again. “Actually, I need your help.” 

“Of course you do. That alone should convince me that you are who you say you are.” It was a bit of a cheap shot, but she was beginning to believe the woman was Ahsoka Tano, now. Given the name, all of her expressions, all of her movements fell into place. She was the same woman, exactly the same. Only older. And imitating the unruffled demeanor of the Jedi masters. 

She’d faced Ahsoka Tano enough times to know that was only an imitation, though. Maybe she wouldn’t kill the kid right now. Maybe she’d wait and see what all of this was about, first, and try to crack that calm in the meantime. “All right,” she decided. “Let’s assume that I am, in fact, somewhere out of time. I have no better explanation for this place. Let’s assume that you are, in fact, Tano the padawan gone past her prime. I’ve already offered you an alliance. That time is past. And I don’t just ‘help’ for free.” 

Not a chink in that demeanor. “You want to stay here, then?” Ahsoka waited. 

Point for Tano. The doorway she’d come through now boasted a wrecked ship and the void of space on its other side. “You know the way out, I suppose.” 

“I know the way back into the world.” 

Ugh, she was intolerable. And right. Ventress rose, dusted her hands on her thighs, and made sure her blades were safely clipped to her belt. “Fine. Lead the way, then, Jedi.”   

“I’m not a Jedi.”    
  


…   


  
They emerged into hell. The glare of light blinded Ventress for a few minutes until her eyes, closed and watering, adjusted. In the meantime, she breathed in the arid air, heat scorching the insides of her nostrils. 

She forced her eyes open, shading them with a hand. Before her a flat plain of sand, heat sending shimmers into the air and reflecting off of what were no doubt mirages of water in the dips of small dunes. Dathomiri weren’t made for this climate. She pulled her hood up. “This is a fine paradise you’ve brought us to. I suppose we’re going to bring the rain and make the flowers grow. We can’t do that, you know.” 

“No.” Ahsoka blinked once. “We’re here to get help.” 

“I thought I was the help.” 

“We’re here to help the help.” 

“I think I liked you better when you were a loud-mouthed brat.” 

This Ahsoka was a closed-mouthed brat, though. They spend the rest of the day trudging through desert, Ahsoka speaking only when spoken to and occasionally offering her canteen.

“You want to tell me where we are?” Ventress asked an hour into their hike, when they stopped to pick up a small speeder from the bend of a hidden canyon. 

“Jakku.” 

Jakku? “Devil’s armpit,” she said dismissively. “With all the stink.” 

“You want to tell me WHEN we are?” she asked the next time they stopped for water. 

“The future.” 

“Your time?” 

Ahsoka shook her head. “Your future. My future. Somebody’s past.” 

Mostly, though, they kept their mouths clamped shut to save moisture. 

When they finally arrived at the glorified lean-to that she supposed served as a pub, the back of Ventress’s throat ached from breathing in dry air. They turned no heads, a Togruta and a Dathomirian on a backwater planet mostly made up of non-human drifters who had nowhere else to go.

They ate duraplast-tasting stew at a back table and Ahsoka alternated between frowning at the other tables and frowning at the communicator on her forearm. Ventress assailed her again. “Confession time,” she said, grabbing the Togruta’s wrist and turning the communicator towards herself. “What are we doing here?” 

It was a pleasant surprise when Ahsoka’s eyes stopped scanning the room, slid her way, and focused. “We’re looking for a Twi’lek. Skin a little lighter than mine. Dark robes, red eyes, really pretentious jewelry. Pull your chair to the side and help me look.” 

“Ask a question, get met with a work assignment.” 

“He works for Jorra the Hutt. We’re not going to jump him; try not to be too disappointed. We just need to buy a slave.” 

“Didn’t think you were into that kind of thing. You and your masters had principles, and all of that.” 

Now Ahsoka rolled her eyes in earnest, looking more like her old self. “It’s complicated.” 

Ventress finished the last spoonful of soup. “That’s what slavers always say. Are you going to eat that?” 

Ahsoka pulled her bowl closer. “Yes.” 

“And are you planning on telling me anything about your fine future, or are you withholding that, too?” 

“There’s no galaxy-wide information that you need to know between then and now.” 

“A patronizing answer truly worthy of a Jedi. Tell me, who wins the Clone Wars?”

That earned her a startled blink. “What?” 

“The Clone Wars. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten? Who wins? The Republic or the Separatists?” 

“I haven’t forgotten, but...nobody wins.” 

“It’s still going?! No, nevermind. I believe that.” 

“No, no. The Clone Wars ends. But it’s not...what anybody thought. The whole galaxy loses. Both sides.” 

“Tell me at least that Count Dooku dies.” 

Ahsoka weighed her answer for a moment before replying, “he does.” 

“Good. Then it might interest you that your man has just arrived.”    


  
…   


  
Their attempts at business with the pretentious Twi’lek, Jorra the Hutt’s foreman, met with the same answer every time: No slaves for sale. Jorra had just gotten an excellent price on all of their new acquisitions; the lot would be shipped to Ord Mantell to work, if they were lucky, in the kitchens. Ahsoka had negotiated aggressively with their contact, then given up. Ventress pressed her luck further, moving in close in that gesture that any smart sentient could interpret as a prowling animal — danger, freeze. But the myopic little middle-man only hissed angrily, “Not for sale! I told the other one your little children were not for sale, you tailless freak.” 

Tano caught her hand just before it hit her saber, and Ventress nearly turned the weapon on her — who was Ahsoka to hold her back? The small shake of Ahsoka’s head did little to quell her anger. In the end, she hesitated only because she was trying to make sense of the Twi’lek’s words. 

And then he stomped out angrily, taking his retinue of Gamorreans with him. 

“Children?” Ventress asked. “Dathomiri children?” 

“An exaggeration, I hope. People of all kinds.” 

“The Night Sisters’ children are gone. Grievous and his droids massacred them. If we were to find any...” 

“Well, our mission is to free them.” 

“I thought our mission was to buy them.” 

“Cheaper this way.” 

Ventress couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. 

“Come on, let’s go.” Ahsoka suggested.

“Make it worth my while.”

Ahsoka held up a chip — a security key for database access, looking no different than they did in Ventress’s time. “I took this off Jorra’s foreman five minutes ago. It should answer your questions about any Night Sisters. And you’re itching for a shot at him, anyway.”     
  


…    
  


Two hours later they stood outside a holding complex at the foot of a squat, redstone compound, and two seconds after that they’d jumped the electric fence and landed silently within its perimeter. A guard met a less lucky fate against that fence. Finally, this was beginning to get amusing. 

“Holding pens.” Ventress gestured to the floodlit duracrete structures. “Go free your innocents. I’m looking for something more valuable.” 

“Back here in a half-hour,” Ahsoka suggested. “If either of us doesn’t make it on time — ” 

“ — leave without you. Of course.” 

“No. Come find me.” 

“Hmm,” Ventress said, doubtful. 

Ahsoka sighed in exasperation. “Just get going.” 

She waited for Ahsoka to leave, then identified the command center easily. The door was open, tacky pop music blaring from within. A quick jump onto the roof, a distraction to draw out the guards, and she dispatched them silently: no alarm sounded, merely bodies to hide in the sharp shadow of the building. The workers inside met a less neat fate, and for a moment Ventress was concerned that they’d damaged the control panels in the scuffle. But then she was into the system, finding the prisoner manifests, setting up an easy search by species. Nothing identified as “Dathomir*” though they might not know what that meant anymore. Thirty-two Zabraki, four of them identified as children. That looked more promising. She took a holo of the pens where they were being held.

Beyond that, the database held nothing of interest. No information about special prisoners, no cargo of particular value, no mention of threats, just 5,000 entries under “sentient acquisitions:” species, ages, no names. 

Then she found the safe in the corner, triple-locked, but nothing that could deter a Force-user. Something to do with the remainder of her time, anyway. Inside, it was filled to bursting with...trinkets. Jewels, some interesting technology she hadn’t seen before… and a lightsaber. She turned it over in her hands. Straight hilt, silver. When she thumbed it on, it flashed blue. Jedi, then. Classic and simple. She stayed away from any loot that might contain a tracking device but clipped the saber onto the back of her belt, where her robes covered it.    
  
Tano was taking forever. Surely she should have freed the slaves and Ventress should hear the stampede of terrified revolt by now. 

She walked into the dark shadow of the guards’ hut and glanced towards their meeting place. Nothing. Beyond the enclosure, cicadas chirped, several circling the floodlights. Maybe the Jedi had actually gotten herself captured. Well, Ventress could probably investigate the Zabrak situation and steal a ship to get off this dry anus of a world, and meanwhile, a time without Dooku in it couldn’t be all bad.

Ah, there was Tano now, rounding the corner of a cell block, showing up at the perfect time to ruin a good plan. 

Leading a single little girl by the hand.

Ventress’s first impulse was to wonder, “Where are the others?” Her second was to gloat. No others. Ahsoka really had gotten harder, and they wouldn’t have to bother about freeing the slaves as a group.

She joined them in the appointed meeting place. At a closer look, the girl was human or human-looking, short brown hair pulled back behind her head, nose and eyes watery the way humans looked when they cried. “Taking an apprentice?” Ventress asked coolly. 

“No.” 

“I want my Mam!” the girl whimpered, voice pitched gratingly high. “Will you take me to Mam and Da? Please?” 

Ahsoka crouched down in front of her, took both her hands.”No, sweetheart. I can’t do that right now. But I will take you somewhere safe.” 

The grounds were quiet — presumably Ahsoka had slipped past the other guards unnoticed rather than dealing with them directly, as Ventress had. They still stood under the floodlights that illuminated the entire compound, though. “Wherever you’re taking her, let’s move.” 

Out of the broad path, past the holding pens, masses of stinking bodies where nobody slept with the bright light shining in on them. “Kraka — ” one called in — what was that, Rodian? 

“Miss?” said another. “Miss, please — let us out.” 

The little girl whimpered again. 

“Keep moving,” Ahsoka said. 

“Gladly.” It smelled like a garbage dump. 

“Mistress? Mistress?” 

She heard the word “executioner” in Zabrak and then a plea for the girl’s safety, and she wondered idly: WOULD they kill this child? Had the future changed Ahsoka Tano so much that if she needed a child to be dead, that was that? Maybe this was the “help” that Ventress offered, doing the dirty work so Ahsoka didn’t have to. 

No, she decided. Ahsoka said we were taking her to safety. 

But the thought slunk in, a skeptical voice in the back of her head — Jedi lie.

“You, Zabrak — ” Ventress called. “None of you humans, just the Zabraki. Let me see you.” 

Some struggled forward, others were pushed by cellmates as they hid in the back. All disappointingly pureblooded, no Dathomiri among them. She turned away as a man pleaded with her, but she was far past the time in her life when she had any use for Zabraki males. 

“I’ll come back,” Ahsoka vowed.

A great, collective moan went up from the pens. Ventress dropped her hand to the lightsaber hilt at her belt. “Quiet, all of you!” 

“I’ll come back, if I can,” Ahsoka promised again. Same old crusader. A muscle twitched in her jaw, but when they started walking again, she kept her eyes straight ahead. 

They paused at the high fence, and Ventress decided to stir the pot. “You could just let them out, you know. The chaos would cover our escape.” 

“I couldn’t,” Ahsoka said. “There’s nowhere for them all to run to. They’d die in the desert. At least here they have a chance for escape later. 

“And this little whelp?” 

“We need her.” 

But Ventress never found out why a child was needed, because at that moment a patrol of guards found them. She reached out with a Force grip and broke the first one’s radio, and with it, his hand. Two to go. Easy.

Ahsoka handed the kid to her, just pitched her into her arms, and Ventress found herself staring into the tired, watery face. A pretty child made dull with exhaustion, all snot and hard, delicate ribs beneath her hands. Up past her bedtime. Ventress shuffled her back and gripped her blades, instead. “This is your package. I’ve got these poor excuses for target practice.”

“No!” Ahsoka called. “No sabers!” 

No lightsabers? Well, that made this slightly more difficult — which was to say interesting at all. “FINE.” A good Force push sent the two guards back against the posts of the floodlights, impaling them on protruding arms of the steering mechanisms with a wet thunk. The lowest of the lightbulbs dimmed, shining through a dead guard’s body. 

“Ventress!” 

“Problem solved. Didn’t even have to get your hands dirty.” 

Ahsoka glowered but shifted her grip on the child and crouched to jump the fence with the girl in her arms. “Let’s go.” 

A siren wailed. Someone had seen them. Oh, now this was about to get fun. “No time. Can’t run through the desert with her.” 

“We’ve got a speeder — ” 

“ — right here.” She didn’t bother to point to the garage, just headed for it at a run that bowled over anyone in her path. 

“Ventress, stop!” Ahsoka had caught up, the child on her back, now. “Any vehicles will be — ” 

Heavily guarded. Yes. 

She had her lightsabers out and the first four guards cut down before the rest even noticed. 

“No! Sabers!” Ahsoka barked, and the little girl shrieked in surprise. 

“Jedi!” howled one guard. 

“Skywalker’s rabble,” spat another, unholstering his blaster.

Two bolts hit the thin duratin of the shed, cutting through with a ping two inches from her ear. Poor shots. She made five quick swipes, jumped on the last of the security guards more for the sake of showing off than out of any necessity, and the fight was over. All of them lay dead. She couldn’t call it a fight, really.  

“Relax,” Ventress said, putting away her lightsabers. “We didn’t leave any witnesses.” 

“There ARE no Jedi!” the girl squeaked, wide-eyed. 

Ventress wiped a spatter of blood from her hand onto her cloak. She must have acquired it earlier; burned men don’t bleed. “I’m no Jedi.” 

“Is that — ?” Ahsoka asked, peering too closely at her waist.  

“What did she mean, there ARE no Jedi?” 

“Don’t you think we should get out of here, first?” 

“A spaceship!” the girl chirped. “A BIG spaceship.” 

Ahsoka grinned. “Looks like we’re freeing your friends after all.” 

Ventress groaned. 

 

…

  
A short hour later, all the guards in the outpost had been dealt with  and the slaves who wanted to come placed aboard ships. Ahsoka, Ventress, and the child took one themselves, a planet-hopper with no hyperdrive. They must not be going far. 

She entered the ship to find the child seated on Ahsoka’s lap. “—after you’ve got the engine started,” Ahsoka was saying. “See this lever? The engine is what gives you power, and this makes you go forward or back, up or down. It’s easy, right?” 

The child nodded, a quick, tight move — unthinking, eager to agree. 

“Come on. You can do it. Put your hand on top of mine.” A pink hand atop Ahsoka’s brick-colored one.  “Ready?” 

“Where are we going?” 

“You tell me. Which direction?” 

“Up!” 

The little thing had to lean forward to pull the lever. 

They cruised for six hours, around the planet and then around again — day, night, day in rapid succession. Ventress suspected that Ahsoka was just letting the child rest. When the thing finally woke, she blinked sleepily from her pallet in the corner of the modest hold, no shock of fear in her eyes. She wasn’t used to sleeping at home anymore. 

She’d woken at the thunderous metallic bang that accompanied Ventress’s hand-to-hand combat. Apparently “durasteel” wasn’t a particularly durable alloy anymore; they’d changed the mix some time between The Clone Wars and now, and you could bend the thing out of shape from the inside with a good punch, no Force assist necessary. 

She glanced at the girl, then considered the ship’s wall, bored, and gave it a good flying kick. Maybe she could break a hole right through the thing, just for fun. 

The child was looking at her. “What?” she asked it. 

“Those.” The small finger pointed to the lightsaber, still tucked away on her belt.

“What about them?” 

“I want to hit with them.” 

“You want to fight. With my lightsabers.” 

A nod. “They keep things from being dark, too.” 

“You can’t.” 

The girl blinked blankly at her, forehead wrinkling in thought, and Ventress could see who she was in the twitch of that brow. Before, before the prisons, she would have thrown a tantrum — I want! I want the sabers! Now! 

So the child had potential.

Ventress gripped the safety light on the wall, a long tube, and wrenched it free. “Use this instead.” 

The girl took it from her hand and gave the wall a solid whack without bothering to stand. Thud, went the bulkhead. She didn’t have a bad arm. 

“Now come here, child.” 

She shook her head no. 

“I said come HERE.” 

The brow unfurrowed. The blank look slid safely back into place. 

Ventress didn’t even try to quash her annoyance at the insipidity of human children. “You’re afraid of me?”

Another shake of the head, a little lie. 

“If you want to learn how to fight back, come here.” 

That did the trick. The girl walked over without a word. 

“Good, then. You hit like this.” 

Wham. Another dent in the hull. 

“Not bad. Don’t stand like that, whelp; are you purra-toed?”  

The girl shuffled her feet a fraction of a centimeter. 

“No.” Ventress bent in exasperation and manhandled her feet into position. 

The girl fidgeted them back into the duck stance. “Where’s your hair?” 

“I asked too many questions and it all fell out. Fix your feet or I do this.” She chopped at a skinny leg with her forearm and the child fell on her butt. “Now try to unbalance me.” She moved to first position, balanced on her toes. 

At her feet, the girl chopped. 

“Not like that. With your stick. Try to hit me.” 

A half-hearted whap. Ventress wrenched the pole from her hard enough to sting her hand. 

“Ouch!” 

“We are not concerned with hurting people here. Hit me. Hard.” 

The girl came at her with an overhead chop — unconventional. Gutsy. Ventress leaned out of the way without moving her feet. 

“Again.” 

A swing at her elbow took only a step to avoid. 

“Again!” Her knee, missed again. 

“Again! Faster!” The child’s blow came at her from behind. Clever, but still weak. 

“TRY!” Ventress barked. “Fast. NOW!” 

For no reason at all, the cargo rumbled at the back of the ship. Sweat had broken out on the girl’s brow, along with a genuine grin. 

The door separating them from the pilot’s compartment opened in a rush of air. Ahsoka took in the dented bulkhead at a glance. “What is going on in here?”

“We’re just hitting things,” Ventress told her coolly.

Ahsoka looked from her to the child, then her brow creased in an expression that was not at all temper. The white markings on her forehead contorted too, sharp angles twisting into worried curves. “It’s time to land,” she told the girl. “Go wash your face and hands now, and make sure you use the toilet before we leave the ship.” 

The child scampered to the fresher, and the women watched her retreating form to avoid looking at each other.

“You find her family, then,” Ventress said. 

“No.” 

“No?”

“Who do you think sold her to this operation?”

Who did she think…? The enormity of this banthashit situation finally struck her. Where were they going? Did Ahsoka even have a plan? Why bother with this one child, in the midst of all those other slaves? “Fine. I’ve had enough of your mysterious posturing. If you don’t want to get skewered, you tell me what is going on here. Why are there no Jedi? How did the Hutts make it all the way to Jakku? Who is this kid, and why do I care?” 

“You don’t. So don’t worry about it.” It wasn’t Ahsoka the smart-alek kid, though — she was on the defensive about something. 

“Why do you need MY help for any of this?” 

“I don’t know. I just know that I do.” 

“Who died and made you guardian of the gates of time, anyway?” 

“Ventress, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

The child ran back to them, taking Ahsoka’s hand, and Ventress decided to kill her later.  

“We’re here,” Ahsoka said. “Do you want to help me land the ship?”  

“Here” apparently meant the other side of the planet. Tano took them down in a pit of sand that passed for a hangar, then gathered the girl’s possessions — freshly laundered clothes, a blanket the ship had provided, a canteen with a built-in moisture vaporator, also from the ship. “Wear this under your clothes,” she instructed. The child hefted the tube they’d used to practice of her own accord, and Ventress raised an eyebrow at her in approval. 

“Where are we going?” the girl asked, wiping her nose on her forearm. “Is my Ma here?” 

“No, sweetheart. This is a new place to live. Better than the last one.” 

They stepped out again into the blinding hot sun and...a tent city? At any rate, a short hike up the hill brought them to a ramshackle collection of scrap-metal buildings and tents. Ahsoka held the child’s hand as they marched up to one of the larger buildings, made of a wrecked ship, from the look of it. Still, the thing had a roof. An orphanage, perhaps? 

But the heavily-armed Gamorrean at its entrance was no social worker, and, as she watched Ahsoka haggle to meet the guards’ boss, Ventress realized that this was no orphanage. 

A short time later found them in a dirt-floored room with a couch and flimsi-covered window, no doubt what passed for luxury around here. In the corner, a portly man sat at his desk, the chair creaking under his weight as he swung around. “Well, well!” Ah. A Crolute, wearing several layers of what had been finery many years and many missed washings ago. “So, Petey says you have a gift for me!” 

“If you are Unkar Plutt, I have an  _ offer _ for you.” Ahsoka dusted her fingers haughtily against her shoulder, then shook the Crolute’s proffered hand. 

“You have found me. Unless you are an assassin.” His nose wrinkled. “Or a tax collector.” He spit, let go of Ahsoka’s hand, and gestured them to seats. 

Ahsoka sat, releasing a cloud of dust from the sofa. The child sat as if glued to her side. Ventress tamped her seat cushion down with the Force to keep that disgusting particulate from flying up as she sat in her own chair. 

“And what offering could such fine ladies as yourselves bring?” Plutt was asking. “Water?” he proffered a dented red caf pot. 

It took Ventress a moment to catch up to what he was asking. “Thank you,” Ahsoka said in the interim. 

The Crolute poured for each of them, a splash of liquid into cracked, delicate teacups — no doubt another scavenged acquisition. “Let the sand settle out for a moment. That will be two credits each.” 

Ventress’s hand went to her saber, but Ahsoka shook her head again and produced a five credit chip, which the Crolute eagerly took and pocketed. What were they doing here with this second-rate lowlife?

“We will be wanting change,” Ahsoka said. 

“But of course, but of course, you drive a hard bargain. Let’s see what you have for me first.” 

“My change.” 

The man sighed and dredged up a one credit chip, handing it over in a show of great regret. 

“Now. A business woman, I see. What do you bring?” 

“This little girl.” 

Ventress jumped to her feet so fast the dust flew up and caught the air like a million tiny allies. 

“Hah!” Plutt crossed his arms. “No.” 

“She’s smart and older than she looks.” 

“I don’t need a half-starved slave girl.” 

“She is not a slave,” Ventress growled. 

“She is not a slave,” Ahsoka confirmed. 

“Doubly useless, then.”

“She is a free agent in need of a guardian.” 

“Huh. And I am supposed to pay to bring her up, yah? Give her food, stuffed wookies? Looks less like an acquisition and more like an imposition to me.” He leaned in close to the girl and peered at her. She shrunk behind Ahsoka’s arm. “How old are you, girl?” 

“Five.” 

“A human five-year-old. No use. Still — let me see your teeth.” He pulled the girl’s lip down. 

“No,” Ahsoka said, such authority in her voice that the man froze as he was, bent over,  “You will take her, you will feed her, and you will not beat her.” 

“You are in no position to drive a bargain with me, miss.” 

Ahsoka caught his eyes, and Ventress heard the hum of a Jedi suggestion in the air between them, as clear as the hum of a lightsaber to those who knew how to listen. “You will take her,” Ahsoka said. “You will feed her. And you will not beat her.” 

“Hrmmmph.” Plutt straightened, crossing his arms. Well, maybe I will take her. And I will feed her. And I will not beat her,” the man admitted. 

“Your people will teach her to read and count. She will be given free reign with the tools and machinery. Nobody will hurt her.” 

“Better an smart burden than a stupid one, I suppose,” Plutt agreed. 

Ahsoka turned to the girl and the tension of her command left the air. “This will be your home now,” she said, “the people will not always be kind, but you will be safe here.” 

The child shook her head. “No. No. I want to stay with you.” 

Ahsoka put a hand on her shoulder. “Little one, you can’t.” 

Plutt shook his head two times, three, returning to his own little mind as if trying to shake a bee loose from his hat. 

Ahsoka grabbed the child in a tight, tight hug, then held her at arm’s length. “It’s not forever. You will find your way back to — ” 

“That’s enough tenderness,” Plutt decided. “I’ll take her now, and she can go with the other scavengers. Come, girl.” He took her arm. “Our business is concluded.” 

“You don’t touch that child,” Ventress said, enough danger in her voice that Plutt stopped dead again.

“What, now you are threatening me?” 

Ventress gripped both saber hilts. “I don’t bother with threats.” 

“Ventress, no,” Ahsoka said quietly. 

No? NO? Was she a Jedi’s errand girl? She caressed the saber’s trigger. “Let’s get one thing straight, Tano — I answer to no one. I’ve done what you suggested since we got here, on the assumption that you knew what was going on. Now I find you shuffling a child from one master to another. Don’t you tell me what to do, padawan.” Her finger found the familiar buttons, thumbed them, and the blades sprung to life, humming under her hands. That felt better. 

The little girl put both hands over her mouth, but her eyes lit in delight. 

“If you’re going to leave her somewhere safe, leave her somewhere SAFE!” 

“She won’t be harmed,” Ahsoka reassured her. 

“Guards! Guards!” Plutt called. 

Three of them rushed in, and Ventress turned on them eagerly. She needed this fight. 

“NO!” Ahsoka told her. “You aren’t doing her any favors. She has to stay here no matter what. She HAS to.” 

“Nobody has to do anything! I thought you’d learned that lesson when you walked away from the Temple!” 

“The Force needs her right here. For the greater good.

“The greater good! You smug, horrible bitch! You Jedi are all the same.” 

“Ventress,” Ahsoka said, “Why do you care about one small girl?” 

She looked back at the child’s face, eyes wide, waiting. What would SHE do with the child, after all? Toss her to the desert? Not take such a weak thing as an apprentice, that was for certain. 

The guards waited, blasters out. They were stupid and content with their situation, bound to Plutt only by money and unwilling to take on such an opponent unless they had to. 

“Fine,” Ventress said. “Leave her here.” She swept the guards out of her way with a motion of the hand, and they fell like so many mag-ball pins.    
  


…

 

Ahsoka met her at the ship a short time later. 

“I suppose you’ll put me back now,” Ventress said. 

“Yes.” 

“Into the middle of an explosion.” 

“No. Somewhere safe. I owe you that much.” 

Ventress snorted in derision. Somewhere SAFE. 

“I know you may not trust me — ” 

“I don’t see why you needed ME on this mission, anyway. You could have handled all of this on your own.” 

“I didn’t see at first, either. But… I’ll take his lightsaber now.” 

“My lightsabers are my own. You can’t make me a slave so easily.” 

“Not those. My master’s.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” 

“Ventress.” This time Ahsoka’s voice held none of the patronizing admonishment, but instead something so sad that Ventress relented just so she didn’t have to listen to any more insipid moralizing today.

“Fine, fine. Take it, then.” She hadn’t touched the cylinder since she found it in the detention camp. Now, she detached it from the small of her back and passed it over. “Poorly made Jedi trinket, anyway.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Keep your thanks. You got me off of that ship. Now get me out of here. Put me back wherever Dooku is and we’ll call it even.” 

Before she could extract a promise, a chirp sounded on Ahsoka’s wrist communicator. “Yes?” she answered. 

Plutt’s voice on the other end. “Your credits came through. A gift, indeed! I will keep the girl well.” 

“Yes, you will. We’ll be watching you.” Ahsoka cut the communication without waiting for a response. 

“What did you do?” Ventress asked. 

“Children are expensive. I just made sure he wouldn’t take the cost out on her before she grew enough to look after herself.” 

Well, well, well. “Why, Ahsoka Tano. I thought the Jedi weren’t supposed to get attached. Just do the will of the Force and be good people, and such.” 

Ahsoka shook her head, more downspirited than Ventress had seen her since that fiasco at the Temple. “I told you. I’m not a Jedi.” 

 

…

  
Their return to the cave that had spat them out here took less than a half-day, the two of them opening it easily with Ahsoka to translate the glyphs. The spirit world inside looked different this time, more doors gleaming through the darkness, a hint of stars in a clear sky when the smoke parted. 

“You’re through there.” Ahsoka indicated a long pathway with a red-lit door gleaming at the end. 

“And you?” 

Her companion hefted the stolen lightsaber experimentally. “I have to go place more pieces before the game starts.” 

“I’m not surprised to see you’ve gone mentally deficient.” 

“Ventress.” 

“What?” 

“Good hunting.” 

“Hmm. Well, then. The same to you, I suppose. And Ahsoka?” she started down the path towards the doorway that was her own, alone. 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t ever contact me again.” 

“No guarantees.”  

“I’m not a pawn of the Force, Jedi.” 

“You know better than that.” Ahsoka gave her that infuriating look one more time before the fog closed between them, placidity on top of deep sadness, along with a considerable dose of the self-righteous. It rankled, because Ventress DID know better — she’d kill just to prove that the Force had no right to her life, that it couldn’t guard anything in the face of her will. And still it brought her around to her place in the pattern. 

“You think me such a fool?” she snapped back. 

“Not that. I told you.” Ahsoka’s voice came from farther away. “I’m not a Jedi.” 


End file.
